Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — Perspective: When I was on the front side of that number (42), it meant nothing. Now, it took on a whole new meaning. Apparently, it’s not what you’re looking at – but where you’re looking at it from.
Next: I seldom admit that I appreciate modern wizardry, but I do like texting. Talk about frustration though: I use this ginkus regardless of the fact that my fingertip encompasses and presses any one of five different letters surrounding the targeted area 95 percent of the time.
My brother, Tim, and I were texting last weekend. Both of us, at the time, happened to be dog-sitting for family members. Tim was taking care of our nephew Mark’s dog, Rudy. (Mark is the son of another brother, Mike … and yes, his dog’s name is Rudy Valley.)
At the time, Mark was in Chicago doing “some shooting.” And talk about embarrassing, for the life of me, I can’t remember if Mark is an actor or a hit man.
I had my daughter Melissa’s family dog, Roxie. They (my daughter’s family) were warming their toes in the beaches of Puerto Rico, while I stood outside in a snowbank begging their dog to pee.
Back to the text: “Wow,” Tim said, “where are we in our lives? We’re both sitting home, babysitting dogs for the weekend and texting each other pictures of our charges cuddled up on the floor.”
“You’re right,” I texted back in only eight tries.
“We should,” he quickly responded, 20 minutes later, “get on that TV show ‘The Biggest Loser.’ What’s happened to us?”
He continued, “I am laughing out loud at my own joke. I wish there was a shorter way to tell you that.”
“Ut tiggy.” I shot back, showing off my speed texting ability.